Road to Hell
by Styxx and Stones
Summary: Eric was always a loner of sorts. When the infection hit, he had even fewer people to call his friends. In the midst of the apocalypse, however, he finds friendship in the strangest of places, a witch.
1. Chapter 1

The road to hell is paved with good intentions. _If that is true, _Eric thought, _then where does a road that is paved with bad intentions lead? Hell? No. Hell is already here._ Eric's pessimistic thought was not far from the truth. A little under a month ago, a strange virus began infecting people. It was first thought to be a normal strain of the flu as observed in the first cases, but it quickly was revealed that it was something much worse. _It's more like rabies than anything else, _Eric added to himself.

The world had since been plunged into catastrophe. Cities quarantined, riots, and hundreds of thousands dead. Eric shivered. Even worse than the number dead was the number _infected._ Many people referred to them as zombies, but they weren't, in the sense that they were undead. They infected were very much alive, and very, very dangerous. Almost everyone Eric new was either infected or killed by the infected. He was lucky he himself was still alive.

_Why _am_ I still alive? Of all the people for God to spare, he chose me to attempt to escape this nightmare....._

"Hey buttercup! Snap out of it!"

Eric quickly flinched away as he was unceremoniously punched in the arm, and he once again raised his pistol and fired at random infected. He was not alone in his fight for survival. The man who had insulted him and punched him was an imposing body builder, who smoked too much for Eric's liking. Eric thought his name was Mark, or maybe Matt. The other person was not much of an improvement. Although he was small in stature and not nearly as muscular as his companion, he was equally as frightening. Eric knew his name, it was Chris. He had scars on each cheek, and didn't talk much. Although Eric never dared ask him, he suspected he was a convict who escaped in the chaos of the infection.

Eric didn't really feel any kinship or trust in either men. Theirs was simply a bond of necessity. Eric would surely die without the brute force the two possessed, and the two needed Eric to navigate out of the city. Eric didn't really believe he knew the city better than they did, but it was the only lie Eric could think of to get these two to offer to help him get out. They were originally going to kill him and raid his house.

Eric stopped shooting and wiped his brow with his forearm. He decided to conserve his ammo and let Chris and Matt, Mark whatever-his-name was do the killing. Eric then took it upon himself to watch the group's back and examine his surroundings. They were somewhere in New Orleans, he knew that. But beyond that, he didn't know. He remembered that one of the signs in a safe house had a map pointed out a bridge leading to what might be the last evac zone. He hoped to get there soon.

"Aww....done already?" Mark said, sounding genuinely disappointed. The horde that attacked them had been decimated.

"Hold your temper, friend," Chris surprised Eric by talking, "There will always be more to kill. Be happy, for we live another day."

The group talked it over ( i.e. Eric came up with the idea) and decided that finding another safe house was unlikely, so the best bet was to find a house with a bed and take shifts keeping watch until morning. They proceeded cautiously down the city streets, littered with abandoned cars and the bodies of the damned. Eric peered into the broken windows of shops and cars, wondering who once occupied them, and what would have happened to them if the infection never happened.

Just as the sun was setting, the group of three came across a hotel sign eerily illuminated by the headlights of an abandoned car.

"'Lucky Stars Hotel', well, sounds good enough for me!" Matt what's-his-name practically ran for the dilapidated door and peeling paint, sporting a wide grin on his face.

"STOP!" Eric yelled.

Mark,or Matt, came to a dead stop and turned in place to stare Eric in the eyes. "You better have a good reason to keep me from a chance at a good night's sleep, boy. I done most o' the work here, so's I deserve this. Don't be thinkin' that you get rest, boy, you's taking first watch!" He laughed cruelly at this.

Eric felt anger boiling in him, but put it aside. "I don't care about any of that. However, it is foolish for you to run into ANY building by yourself, with your weapon lowered. There could be a hunter or worse in there, you need to wait for us."

He just smirked nonchalantly and said, "You're just scared....If one of us dies you won't be able to fend for yourself."

Eric felt the blood rushing to his face. He was cut deep by the remark. More so since he knew is was completely true.

"Both of you, shut the hell up." Chris walked around Eric and roughly shouldered past an opened-mouthed Matt, rifle at the ready.

Chris slowly pushed open the battered door, so smoothly that it didn't even creak, like Eric expected it to. Chris disappeared into the hotel, and Eric held his breath, expecting the worst. Two shots rang out through the night, and Eric stared in awe and Chris walked out the same door, no hint of fear or doubt on his and stared and his two dumbstruck companions.

"The kid was right. There was a hunter in there. You two coming?"

---------------X----------------

The group shuffled slowly and deliberately up the stairs and unto the second story of the abandoned hotel. Chris took point, Matt or Mark in the middle, and Eric took up the rear. Chris would peer into every room they passed down the connecting hallway with his rifle raised, searching for any hint of danger. The feeling of suspense was thick in the air, and the creaking of the floorboards fit nicely with this theme. The group continued in this fashion down the dreary hallway, their flashlights the only light source for them.

Suddenly, a sound cut through the dreadful silence, a sob. Chris froze, causing the whole team to stop. Eric was confused. Chris seemed to stiffen, his muscles tense, Eric perceived what he thought was fear in the man. This didn't make sense, nothing scared Chris. Nothing.

"Witch." This one word was stated with such bitter distaste and reverence that even though Eric had no idea what an witch was, he was already afraid of it.

The sobbing continued, emanating from a room at the end of the hallway. Chris began moving again, with deliberate caution. Eric flinched every time a board creaked .Why did this witch scare a man like Chris so much, and why were they going _towards _it? Throughout all of this, Eric had all but forgotten Mark. The body builder had broken out into a cold sweat, and was whimpering ever so slightly to himself. As much as Eric hated the man, he felt involuntary pity for him.

Finally, they were to the door which the crying was unmistakably coming from. Without giving them time to prepare or even feel fear, Chris kicked open the door. Eric hissed as he sucked in breath. He squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the attack.

When nothing happened Eric opened his eyes. What he saw was not what he expected. Instead of the monster of his worst nightmares, a frail looking woman covered in rags lay on the floor, crying into her hands. What really surprised him, though, was Chris had not lost the look of fear on his face. Instead, he seemed even more nervous as he slowly aimed his rifle at the witch's head.

Eric had to stop this. This thing couldn't possibly hurt them, it would be murder. "DON'T-"

Chris whipped around with such ferocity and speed that Eric had no time to prepare and Chris violently slammed Eric up against a wall and clamped his hand down on his mouth.

"Not a word." Chris whispered harshly into Eric's ear. "Don't let looks deceive you, that thing is so dangerous, if you startle her, she could kill all three of us. The only way to be safe is to kill her now."

Eric did not struggle and waited for Chris to release him. When he did, he whispered quietly into his ear, "If she is as dangerous as you say, we should leave her alone." Eric did not really believe she was at all dangerous, but he was doing all he could to save her life. He killed infected on a daily basis, and hated himself for it. He could not bring himself to watch as something defenseless was murdered. If he had to play into the man's obvious fears, then so be it.

"We should just leave her here, and continue on with our business. No sense risking a chance of startling her." Eric could tell by the look in Chris's eyes that his words struck deep. Eric was taken aback that Chris seemed so _afraid _of these witches. So he knew it was out of fear when Chris said this:

"You're right. We'll just have to be extra careful about the noise we make. You take first watch."

With that, Chris noiselessly dashed out of the doorway and down the hall, to a room a suitable distance away. Matt released a long breath, and started after him, looking back once at Eric.

Eric stood there, staring at the witch. He was happy he was able to save her life, but wary of her as well. _How could something so small cause so much fear in a man like Chris?_ Then the witch let out another sob, and his fear was replaced by pity. The witch was alone here, with people trying to kill her, and probably cold, seeing as how she wore nothing but rags. On this last thought, Eric shuffled out of his own light jacket and then he proceeded to attempt to lay it on the witch. He couldn't seem to get close enough without her growling, and when his fear overpowered him, he simply put the jacket next to her. As he hurried to the designated room, he wondered if the witch still knew how to use the jacket, or if she would use it as a blanket.

When he came to the room, he saw both men fast asleep on two cots along either side of the room. Sighing heavily, Eric sat down in the door way, pistol at the ready, and started on his watch. His thoughts continuously wandered however, back to the witch. He felt truly sorry for her. He had a good feeling what it felt like to be alone. He had been alone in his former life.

_Is that what I think of it now? The infection has lasted only a month and its my "former life"?_ Eric sighed again. He was alone now. Anyone who could have possibly comforted him was dead now. He was probably dead too. He wondered if the witch had similar reasons for crying. Did she even remember the life she lost? Eric's thoughts slowly became less coherent as his eyelids strangely became heavy and the doorway felt like the most comfortable thing in the world. He was asleep before he knew what happened.

A/N: **Tell me how you liked it. All comments are appreciated. I have big plans for this story, so stick with me here! I have just finished finals so I have lots of free time!!!**


	2. Chapter 2

"Rise and shine wussy!"

Eric jolted awake as he was hit in the head with his own pistol. _That's funny, I remember putting it in my hand just before I started......oh....._Eric started blinking his eyes to focus in on the blinding light now present in the room. It looked to be daylight already. He had slept through pretty much his whole watch, and had not woken up either men for them to take over. Eric hung his head in shame. _We could all be dead because of me._

Eric cough uncomfortably as Matt or Mark lit another of his trademark cigarettes. _Why can't he just hurry up and get lung cancer?_ The more Eric studied the man's features however, the more anger his face seemed to hold. Just when Matt seemed like he would flip and attack Eric, Chris cut him off.

"We leave in one hour. Eric you scout while we prepare." With that, Chris turned away from both men and continued meticulously cleaning his guns.

Eric scrambled up from his lounging position in the doorway and headed for the room they had last seen the witch. Eric knew the only reason Chris had even spoken up and given the group an order was because he was still afraid. _Perhaps fear doesn't weaken him. Maybe it keeps his senses sharp. _

Eric's train of thought halted once he arrived at the room at the end of the hall. The door Chris had kicked open last night was still open, and Eric could see what looked like a footprint in the center of the door. What made Eric stop however, was the absence of the witch, and his jacket. _At least I know she decided to keep it. _The daylight filtering in through an open window, Eric was able to see the room and its details more clearly. He saw the yellowing wallpaper, and the occasional blood splatter. Eric sniffed, the daylight also percolated the stench of death in the air.

He also saw details on himself he hadn't bothered to notice before. For example, his pair of baggy jeans had a crusty layer of blood about them, and his plain T-shirt was ripped, exposing his chest underneath. Not that he cared, there wasn't anything to show off. Eric shuffled farther into the room, and rested his arms on the sill of the open window, surveying the city of New Orleans. There was the usually landmarks of carcasses and abandoned cars. However, there were noticeable hints of the beauty the city once held. For example the bridge to the west had a definite....._Wait, bridge?!_

"Hey guys, I know where we are headed now!!!"

------------------X--------------------

"Son of a...." Mark/Matt complained as he tried, unsuccessfully to light another cigarette. His lighter seemed to be out of butane, and his nerves were acting up from lack of nicotine. Cursing loudly, he stuffed the lighter into his pocket and simply held the cigarette in his mouth. That was enough to give him comfort.

"So you's sure that bridge is jus' over yonder?" He called over his shoulder at Eric, who looked like he was having trouble keeping up with the two men, judging by his heavy breathing and profuse perspiration.

"As sure as.....day" Eric panted, wiping his brow onto his soaked forearm.

Satisfied, Matt continued walking behind Chris down the deserted quarter of New Orleans. They hadn't seen much action since leaving the hotel. Mainly they came across embarrassingly small numbers of stragglers. This just made the muscular man more confused, why did Chris still look so scared?

"Hey Chris, ease up. That scrawny witch hightailed it outta here. We ain't got nothin' to worry about 'round here."

The scary man never took his eyes off the road ahead, and his step never faltered, but his words were harsh and decisive, "That's the problem. It should not be this easy. We hardly have any opposition on our way here. It's as if someone already cleared out the zombies for us. I don't like this."

Eric felt his heartbeat quicken at the possibility of other survivors. Oh, how nice it would be to talk to other survivors, other than these brutes. Eric said nothing though, and let his thoughts be shot down by himself. He knew the possibility of other survivors was slim at best, and he should not get his hopes up. He sighed and reloaded his lone pistol, and went back to covering the team's rear. _If only I had someone to talk to....._

Finally, the team halted at the end of the line of buildings. A larger green sign dominated their focus, and even Matt knew what it said. "Veteran's Memorial Bridge". A large grin appeared on the large man's face, Chris grunted, but Eric just saved his praise. He didn't even know if the military was still here. He prepared himself for the worst.

As it turned out, there was a safe house very close to the sign. However, it was far from a godsend. The place was picked clean, the med kits were all gone, and there was very few ammo to select from. This further reinforced the groups assumption of tailing behind another group. The safe house was two stories, with the second story having a door connecting to the bridge. Eric looked out, expecting the gate to be up and expecting to have to find a way to lower it. Instead, the whole group went outside and found the bridge to be lowered and the gates down.

Chris searched the ground outside the door for a moment before spotting a cell phone next to a dead body. Picking it up, he found that it was on, and that a call was still in progress.

"Hello?"

"Another group?" A male voice answered from the other end.

Chris pulled the phone away from his head at this point, staring at the device accusingly. He cleared his throat before responding. "Yes, we are another group of immune survivors. I repeat, we ARE immune!"

"Roger that bridge, I will tell Papa Gator to hold the chopper a couple of minutes longer. You better hurry your asses up though, this bridge is gonna blow, then we are pulling out of here."

"We copy. We'll get there ASAP. Keep the seats warm for us."

"Good luck bridge. By the way, how many of you are there?"

"Just two." Chris's expression at the form of these two words was horrifying. It was like a mixture of lust, hate, and happiness. He seemed to enjoy to gasp of shock that he elicited from Eric, and hate himself for it at the same time. This man truly belonged in prison.

Eric felt the same desperation creep into his mind as before, with the witch. Only this time, it was for his own sake. "Why....did you say two? There are three of us." He knew it was a stupid question, but he was stalling until he could think of a plan.

Chris grew himself a Cheshire grin on his face. "You remember our first meeting, do you not? You begged for you life with your only bargaining chip, getting us to evac. Well look where we are!" Chris spread his arms wide, his smile never losing its brilliance. He was talking with fanatical logic now. Eric knew he could not dissuade this man. "You aren't useful for anything else. You are a terrible shot, you're slow, and you can't even stay awake! We don't need you anymore, where we are going, you would only weigh us down. I'm sorry, but you can stay here!"

Matt broke into a fit of laughs after hearing Chris's speech. He turned to face Eric, attempting to make one last cheeky insult before they left him.

Only Eric wasn't behind him.

Eric swung a lead pipe with all his might at the muscled man's meaty head. He had aimed to kill, but he knew he wasn't strong enough to pull it off. The pipe resonated with a satisfying _klunk _as Mark crumpled to the ground, out cold. Eric's blood was pumped full of adrenaline, and he felt sure he could escape he only needed to take care of.....

Eric yelled in pain as fire exploded in his right ankle. Eric lost his balance and toppled onto the hard, unforgiving cement, next to the muscular man's body. Chris crouched over Eric, looking him in the eyes. His smile was gone now. He meant business.

"You saved me the trouble of killing him. Though it will be awkward explaining how my friend was pounced into the river by a hunter, but I think I can pull it off." Chris took his eyes briefly off of a still writhing Eric to reload his .44 Magnum. "However much I would like to wait for you to be blow up by the bombs on this god-forsaken bridge, I can't risk the chance that you might be able to hit me at close range with your pistol. So goodbye, Eric." Chris cocked his pistol and placed the hot metal against Eric temple. Eric squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for Chris to pull the trigger. An ear-splitting shriek forced him to tear his eyes open.

Chris seemed surprised by the sound as well, because he took he eyes off Eric long enough for him to roll away from Chris and grab his fallen pistol. Eric pulled himself up to a kneeling position, and winced as his bad ankle flared up again. He pointed his pistol at Chris with a purpose, and was intent on punishing the foul man.

But Chris never paid attention to Eric. Because Chris was already dead. Blood ran down from the corners of his mouth, and his eyes stayed inhumanely open. Protruding wickedly from Chris's chest were five blood-stained claws. And attached to those claws was the very thing Chris had feared the most, and with just cause. The witch loomed over the body of Chris.

Eric lowered his handgun and whimpered softly to himself. There was nothing he could do. The witch could cut him into ribbon just as easy as she did to Chris, he had jumped out of the frying pan and into the fire. The witch jerked her hand out of Chris's chest, allowing Chris's body to slump to the cement. Then the witch's red eyes focused on Eric, causing him to shrink back , towards the safe room door, ignoring the protests of his ankle. The witch advanced however, and Eric could do nothing to stop her. Twice in a matter of minutes, Eric shut his eyes, waiting to die.

For the second time in a matter of minutes, something unexpected happened.

A feeling of weightlessness and comfort encased Eric's body as he felt the cement disappear from his touch. Confused, Eric opened his eyes to see that the witch had picked him up off the ground. She was cradling him in her arms bridal style, and her claws were tucked in, purposely to not hurt him. Eric knew then that she meant him no harm, but couldn't imagine why.

"Hey what the-" Eric was cut off as the witch unexpectedly burst out running, Eric in her arms down the bridge. This act made Eric silently wonder about the witch's strength and stamina, to be able to sprint and carry him for such a long time. She dodged around cars and dead bodies with ease, and what infected were left on the bridge didn't approach her. It was as if they feared her as well.

But Eric didn't think it would do any good. He had already wasted so much time fighting with Chris and Matt that they both were surely going to die. The chopper would leave, and then he would be alone again, and his miserable life would come to an end.

As if sensing his distress, the witch quickened her speed even more and blew past any infected in her way. She jumped up upon an abandoned fuel truck, and sprinted down a stretch of bridge that was tilted to one side. But Eric could see the chopper, they were close. And this would make it all the more painful.

As the witch crossed the last portion of bridge, hordes of infected began streaming out of the forest and towards the helipad. The chopper's blades were in full motion now, and Eric knew the only reason it was still here was because of him. Squinting, he thought he could make out figures waving him in from the chopper.

The witch weaved and dodged around the horde, and many simply got out of her way. Then Eric saw something that made his blood run cold, a tank. The tank was barreling his way out of the horde, and rushing for the chopper. The witch easily overcame the tank, even with the weight on her arms, but this added threat made their situation all the more desperate. Finally, the witch rounded up the wooden steps to the helipad. The witch quickly set Eric down next to the boarding ramp for the chopper.

Not wanting to waste anymore time, Eric hurried to board the chopper. In his haste, he put too much weight on his bad ankle and felt gravity exacting its revenge upon him . Just as he thought he would kiss the concrete again, a strong set of arms caught him.

"Don' worry now. I gotcha'." Eric quickly mumbled a thank-you and scrambled out of the comforting grip and into the plane.

"Buddy, you sure lost a lot of blood....I dunno..." Eric only nodded, his eyelids not wanting to stay open, he felt like he should feel safe. But somehow, he felt as if he were missing something.

"Hot damn! Is that a witch!? Pilot, get this bird airborne!" Another male voice sounded off to Eric's side.

Eric stirred violently at this, "No, she's with me! Don't hurt her. Please, let her come!!!"

"Excuse me? Is this a joke?!" No one answered the anonymous voice as the witch hurried up the boarding ramp, just as it was closing. The chopper took flight then, leaving the ground behind. Before the ramp closed completely, Eric glimpsed the tank yelling furiously at the top of its lungs and attempting to smash the helicopter.

Bathing them in almost total darkness, he managed to keep his eyes open long enough to see through the a side window the bridge he had just crossed erupt into flames and break apart into pieces. He smiled grimly to himself, now both of those men were dead.

The last words of a conversation between the helicopter's occupants drifted into Eric's mind and he felt unconsciousness take over, "This remind me of this one time, when my buddy Keith was getting bombed by the army......"

A/N: **Wow. That was a long chapter to write. I know a lot of stuff happened there, so now the story is going to kick itself into full gear and really take shape. Sorry if it feels like I rushed the meet-up with the witch, I promise to explain the motivation of her character in later chapters. As always, please review and tell me how you like it. Love it? Do I suck? Hide the pens? Let me know!**


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: **Before the next chapter begins, I would like to express my extreme gratitude to all those who reviewed my story thus far. I finally realize how much the opinions of the audience affect the author. So all those who've liked the story so far, I promise you won't be disappointed.**

_Eric had the strangest dream. Off in the distance, Eric could see a crowd of people gathered under the only streetlight. The light was inadequate to identify any of the forms. Curious, he felt a longing to run and meet the people._

_ But, no matter how hard he made his legs work, he didn't seem to gain any distance. The crowd never got any closer. Desperate, Eric cried out, "Help me!"_

_ At this, the every head in the crowd snapped to his direction. Eric gasped in surprise. He could see every individual clearly now, and wished he couldn't. Five pairs of glowing eyes peered into Eric, and five blood-stained mouths opened in a single, spine-tingling scream._

_ Eric now tried his hardest to escape the creatures, running the opposite way. But just as before, he never gained any distance. A black abyss surrounded him, and the five creatures dominated his vision. The hell-bent creatures scattered and rushed towards him, ready to kill._

_ Eric opened his mouth to scream, but no sound came out. As the the figures scattered and escaped from his vision, the streetlight shone upon the clear reason for the crowd's gathering. Laying flat on the pavement, stiff as a board, was a lifeless version of Eric. _

"SWEET MOTHER OF GOD!" Eric screamed at the top of his lungs. A vicious pain tore at his ankle, wrenching him from his fitful slumber.

The pain in his ankle was worse than getting shot , it that it wasn't quick or sharp. This was a grinding and splintering pain. Eric imagined it felt close to what stabbing himself with an electric drill would feel like. Immediately, he made to pull his whole leg closer to his body, as if he could escape the pain somehow. However, his leg met firm resistance, as if some kind of restraint was stopping him from doing so. Eric thrashed around spasmodically, attempting to free himself.

"Jesus kid, suck it up. I gotta get the bullet out." Eric heard the voice, but his mind refused to comprehend it. The pain overwhelmed his mind, and he tried to do anything possible to escape it.

"Damn it! Rochelle, get over here and hold him down for me." The presence of another set of hands became known. Securing his upper torso firmly, the hold was familiar and friendly, but also unyielding. He was strapped in for good.

The pain returned. The grinding, stabbing pain ripped at his ankle and rippled in waves up his leg. Just when Eric could take no more and was about to scream to the heavens, the pain stopped, only to be replaced by a dull throbbing. The throbbing pain was a reminder of what Eric had endured only seconds ago, but its presence wasn't comforting, no. It was rather like an eerie silence in the night, foreboding of things to come.

"Open your eyes, son." A harsh, commanding, yet friendly voice spoke to Eric. And so Eric obeyed. And what a sight he saw.

A tired looking man wearing a white, blood-stained suit was holding a miniscule piece of metal in between his finger and thumb, and looking quite put off. Eric felt his brows knit together in confusion, what the hell was that?

The man sighed and gestured, holding the metal out to him. "Small huh? This is what you were screaming like a girl about. This is the bullet that was lodged in your ankle."

The man looked past Eric and nodded at someone. "Let him go Rochelle, he'll be fine for now." With that, the tired man sat down on a bench next to him and made to drop the bullet in a pan when suddenly, the whole room lurched sideways. The man toppled off the benchl and cursed wildly. Fearing for his life, Eric sat up abruptly, confused as ever.

"God damn pilot." The man, now recovered, standing up, "Somebody needs to tell him how to drive a helicopter."

_Helicopter. _That's where he was. A sudden sense of urgency enveloped Eric, he didn't quite know what, but he had to do _something. _

Eric made a sudden movement, and made to stand, or at least roll off of the gurney he had been placed on. A large, kind hand placed its firm grip on his shoulder.

"Easy there, boy. No need to hurt yourself. We're all here. You're safe now." Eric craned his neck around to look at the new voice. It came from a large, dark-skinned bald man, with a creased, yet kind face. Just being around this man made Eric feel more at ease.

For the first time since regaining consciousness, Eric decided to make a sounded that wasn't a scream, "Who are all of you?"

Yet another new voice greeted Eric, "Well, we here 'a been wonderin' the same thang." Eric snapped his head to meet the newest speaker, and was met with the face of a southern redneck, with a clean shaven face and wearing a baseball cap. The man was smiling ear-to-ear and seemed to Eric very young.

"We know you have questions, hell anyone would, but we'll ask ours first, if you don't mind." The man in the white suit spoke this time. With a nod of his head, the big man's hand left Eric's shoulder, and someone walked past Eric's head and his other side. The big man and a dark-skinned female both sat on the opposite side of the room, on a similar bench as to the one Eric had his gurney on.

After a quick comb of his fingers through his hair, the man in the white leaned forward and clasped his hands together, his face a blank mask. He wasn't giving anything away. The other three had similar looks of seriousness etched onto their faces, although with less intensity.

"Let's start with a simple question to get the ball rolling." It appeared the man in white was going to do most of the talking. "What is your name?"

Eric wondered why he was seemingly being treated with such hostility, but decided he would be honest with these strangers. After all, they were probably armed and good quite easily overpower him if he somehow angered them "My name is Eric."

The man in white closed his eyes and nodded, seemingly pleased. "Good, now, can you tell me why I found a .44 caliber bullet in your ankle? The infected can use guns, we know that much, so another survivor shot you. Care to tell me why?"

Eric's confusion vanished at this, he even broke out into a smile, he couldn't help himself. _They're afraid of _me. The four people looked surprised at first at his smile, then cautious, fearful of his sanity. Eric quickly sobered himself and spoke to remedy the situation. "I assure you I mean you no harm. The two men I was traveling with decided to leave me behind and take the rescue for themselves. When I tried to run, they shot me."

At this last statement, the southerner broke out into a series of jubilant cheers and whoops, "I told yall! We ain't got nothin' ta fear from this guy! He's alright!!!" The man in white and the big man both dawned scowls at their companions seemingly unexpected outburst.

As no surprise to Eric, the man in white spoke up first "For Christ's sake Ellis, that doesn't mean anything, he could be lying." The southerner stopped his victory chant and sat back down, sighing deeply. "Besides," the man in white continued, "He still hasn't explained the witch."

Eric's stomach dropped at this. He couldn't befriend these people, not if Chris's reaction to witches was any standard to go by. It was his turn to sigh now, and his eyes dropped from the four strangers. "I really can't explain it. I saved her life while my group was traveling here. She appeared on the bridge and saved me too, she killed the guy who shot me, and carried me to the helicopter. That's all I can say." Eric sucked in deep breath, waiting for a response.

The man in white exploded, his face a mask of anger and rage, "You expect us to believe that?! You hold up our chopper, you force us to treat you, and to top it all off, you bring a _witch _on board? What if-" The man in white was cut off by the large dark man, "That's enough Nick, this guy checks out with me."

The man in white looked like he was going to protest but the female, the only one who hadn't spoken yet, decided to at this point, "You heard Coach, Nick, shut up. This guy is probably as scared as I know you are right now." The man in white scowled deeply and abruptly stood up, and waltzed out of the room. His three companions looked like the wanted to go after him, but then turned back to Eric.

"Sorry about that, boy. He just gets like that sometimes." The large man looked at him with such large, kind eyes. The man laughed a hearty laugh before continuing, "Why don't we introduce ourselves, as a start? My friends call me Coach, I reckon y'all can do the same." And so the man called Coach nodded towards the dark female to his left.

The girl smiled nicely and said in a sweet voice, "The name's Rochelle." With that, that left the southerner.

Without pause or hesitation, the young man jumped into the conversation. "My name's Ellis. Some people call me 'El', but I really don't like that 'cause 'El' sounds too much like a girl's name. I guess if you really want you call me El, you can." When he was done, Ellis tipped his hat at Eric.

Coach spoke up again, "The grouch you met earlier is Nick. Don't worry about him son, I'm sure he'll come around." His part said, the man got up, and exited out the same door Nick had earlier. Rochelle stood up quickly and followed him. Eric lowered his eyes. He felt more alone than ever, these people still did not like him.

Ellis, the last person alone with Eric, made to get up as well, but stopped half-way to the door, turning to look at him, lying on his gurney. Suddenly, the southerner slapped his forehead and laughed to himself, "I almos' forget about yer ankle buddy. Nick kinda lef ya' high and dry, didn' bandage it up." Eric looked down and sure enough, his ankle was swollen and an angry red, with a horrific bloody crater gouging his ankle. He was surprised he hadn't noticed his situation sooner, the throbbing pain having subsided into the back recesses of his mind.

Ellis came over to Eric's gurney, taking off a red pack from his back as he did so. Unzipping the case, he pulled out a roll of gauze. "Here, I'll help with that." And so he did, gently wrapping the gauze around his ankle, and tying it off. When he was done, he sat down next to Eric, replacing where Nick had been previously.

"So why do ya think that witch carried ya?" The southerner looked at him with expectancy, as if Eric had all the answers, and could clear everything up.

He answered as truthfully as possible. "I really don't know. I suppose it's because I saved her life..." He trailed off, not knowing how to continue. Looking up at Ellis, the man had a pure look of awe on his face, like a kid in a candy store. Eric truly wondered how someone so innocent had survived the infection.

"You must be real importan' fer her ta do somethin' like that." Eric lowered his eyes again, this man was expecting so much from him already. How terrible it would be when the group found out how useless he really was. "Not really...." He rubbed his arm and shifted his good foot, feeling awkward.

"Hey, hey Eric, I think you should meet someone else." Saving Eric more awkward questions, Coach opened the door, looking in with a sincere look. In his right hand was a standard medical crutch.

"I figured you would need this, seeing as your ankle just got blasted, you probably don't want to put too much weight on it." Eric nodded and accepted help out of his gurney, grateful for the crutch. _This helicopter sure was ready for medical emergencies. I wonder what they were expecting to find...._

As the group of three, Coach in front, Eric limping behind him, and Ellis (the naturally curious person he was) trailing them both, made it through the doorway, Coach said over his shoulder, "She won't let any of us come here her. We haven't tested the boundaries though, I know too well what happens when you get a witch angry." Coach stopped in the connecting hall way in front of a bathroom door, that had a makeshift lock and chain over the door. He pulled out a key and quickly took off the padlock, backing further down the hall, granting Eric more room. He first steadied himself with his left hand against the wall, and used his right hand to push open the door, grabbing his crutch as a familiar sight greeted him. There, lying on the floor, was the witch.

The bathroom light was on, and the resulting light illuminated the witch's previously unseen features. Predominantly, Eric noticed that her skin had the color of a storm cloud. Dark gray, and hinting at a hidden power beneath. The tattered rags she wore had lost all resemblance to any article of clothing he had seen. Her hair was long and fair, but almost deathly white. Overall, she looked like she would break if she tried to move. Her apparent frailty was saddening, because Eric could see definite hints of the beauty she probably once held.

Hearing the door being swung open, the witch looked up from the hands she had been crying in, growling loudly. Then Eric saw the feature that defined the witch as a monster, her eyes. They were blood red and pierced into him, paralyzing him. And for a brief moment, Eric felt the same fear Chris had, that Coach did, that everyone did. He would get this witch angry, and she would attack. He would die. Where could he run, even if he didn't have an injured ankle, he was on a helicopter. Once she was finished with him, she would kill the others. And it was all his fault. Then, a second later, as if noticing him, the witch abruptly stopped growling, and ceased baring her teeth. And Eric's moment was gone, the fear with it. Instead, he was full of questions.

"Why did you save me? Why did you kill Chris? Why did you come back? Why did...." Eric stopped as he heard the witch make a growling sound. As soon as he did, the witch's face tightened in frustration, as if trying to concentrate. The sounds continued, become more coherent with each repetition.

""

"

"

"…..Fffffffff...rrrieeend"

The witch pointed one blood-stained claw at herself and said almost clearly, "Fffr-iend."

"Sure seems like she like's you." Ellis's voice made Eric jumped, and he whipped around (as fast as a crippled person can) to see that in his intense interest in the witch, he had forgotten the man was behind him. Before either could say anything more however, Nick's voice boomed through the cabin.

"PILOT, JUST WHERE THE HELL ARE WE GOING?!?!?"

"Sir, please take a seat, we are going to a base of classified location."

"....... CLASSIFIED?!?!? YOU DO KNOW THIS IS A GOD DAMN-"

"Captain, is that our destination down there?"

There was a pause and the only sound was the two men breathing.

"My God......the base is over run.....It's like an infected army down there...."

"JESUS NO!! …..." now the co-pilot voice shook with fear and uncertainty. "No...I will not let myself go out like this!"

"Get a hold of yourself, soldier! We have enough fuel, we can just change course to-"

"To WHAT , Captain?! That was the last major CEDA base in the continental U.S! There's no where else to run!! I'm not going down as zombie bait!!"

Curses and yelling of a struggle now filled the air, then the horrible tension reached a climax as a thunderous shot rang through the cabin.

Nick's somewhat familiar voiced boomed again, "WHO'S PILOTING THE HELICOPTER?!?!"

Suddenly the helicopter lurched, throwing Eric out into the narrow hallway, losing his crutch in the process. Eric hissed as he landed on his bad ankle.

"I....I can't bring her up!!! We lost too much altitude...Dammit,....Can't get the controls the respond." Silence. "Oh god, his body is pushing on the controls. Help me get him off, quick!!"

Eric heard Ellis whisper something to himself like "Oh, not again." He closed his eyes and concentrated real hard. Hoping to somehow make it out of this alive. _How come I always the line of life and death. One of these times I won't be as lucky as before._

Suddenly the world spun out of control, and somewhere a loud screaming deafened his ears. Eric was so disoriented, he didn't even recognize it as his own. Nausea and dizziness took hold, and he was unconscious before he knew it.

A/N : **Once again, I'm sorry it took me so long to update, school has been a drag, what with the new semester and all. Hopefully I will try to update sooner.**


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